


Kith

by hitchhikingbabeh



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2020-05-12 11:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitchhikingbabeh/pseuds/hitchhikingbabeh





	1. Kith

It’s Sunday night and you don’t feel like doing a single thing other than sleeping because you’ve worked your ass off all fucking week and you’d like to remain undisturbed until at least next Thursday.

So if that goddamn bell rings one more fucking time—  

 _Ding_!

Whoever’s on the other side of the front door must really want to die.

 _Bang, bang, bang_ , and fuck, they’re really doing it now.

And then an all too familiar voice starts frantically calling your name in a suppressed tone, almost like they want you to hear them but also don’t want to be heard.

You’d recognise that ocean floor deep bass anywhere, sadly, and you’re cursing every deity you’ve ever heard of as you fling your very warm and very comfy comforter away from your body and stomp your feet to the foyer.

“Do you want to die?” you outright yell from behind the mahogany, and you hear the asshole on the other side laugh.

“I will if you don’t open the door.”

“Great, nice to know you!” and you’re turning around before Park Chanyeol starts to bang on the doors with his gigantic yaoi hands and can he not tell you’re not in the fucking mood?

“What the fuck do you want— “ the door hasn’t been open two seconds but Chanyeol has you both at least three feet into the apartment. He’s managed to get the door closed somehow, because you hear the loud noise it makes and you feel the cold wood against your back and your legs just moments later because you aren’t wearing any pants—

And Park Chanyeol has his hands on your cheek and around your neck and one of his legs is between your thighs and he’s panting and looking at you with really hungry eyes and you are  _still_  not in the mood.

“No.”

He promised he wouldn’t do this anymore.

“Please,” holy shit, he must really want this because you’ve never heard him beg. Your eyes widen just as your body starts to take in what’s going on; you can feel the heat of his haste radiating off of his body, you can almost see the way his heart is beating like it’s ready to burst out of his chest and you only now notice the tiny beads of sweat in his hairline.

He always catches you when you’re distracted, because it’s when it’s easiest for you to give in.

His lips are hungrier than his eyes let on, and you can’t help the soft groan that escapes you when he presses the entirety of his body against yours to knock out some more air from inside you.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes when he realises he has you pinned against the door in a way that has you hanging a little above ground, and he waits till your feet are on the wooden floors before he presses wet lips against your jaw. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” you can’t believe it but you’re actually laughing, because you can’t play hard to get anymore. Your hand lands on the back of his neck and you run it up to his hair lightly, even tilting your head to the side so he can kiss his way down the bridge of your neck with ease.

“I know I said we would stop this,” he’s still short of breath when he comes back to your lips, his eyes only half open and his hands grabbing fistfuls of your t-shirt.

“But?” your eyes haven’t shut closed just yet, because his kiss is now feather light and almost apologetic.

Almost, because you know Chanyeol has never come to you with pure intentions. You’re reminded of it again when he wraps his ridiculously long arms around your hips and lifts you, forcing you to wrap and lock your own very average legs around his back.

“But I have withdrawal.”

 _Wow_.

“Have you ever heard of self-control?” with the way he’s looking at you it’s almost like he’s never had to come across the term, and it feels useless to do this when he’s already crossing over to your bedroom. “It’s something all humans are born with. I know a lot of guys don’t get taught to suppress their desires because of the whole ‘dominant sex’ hoax, but you should really look into it.”

Chanyeol sets you down in the dead centre of your bed and crawls up to you immediately after, nodding like he’s listening and fully understands everything you’re saying. “Self-control,” you start to lecture, and Chanyeol continues to nod even as he grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head (and you are far worse than he is because your raise your arms totally willingly to help him out), “is when you think twice before you do something that you could potentially regret somewhere down the line. Or when you think twice before doing something that might harm you or someone you care about.”

Chanyeol straightens up on his knees to pull his own shirt off, and the sight of his admirable torso makes you gulp and for a single moment you forget that you’re trying to dissuade him from moving further.

Only a moment, though. Because then he’s very unreservedly staring at your chest and you remember yourself.

“If we keep doing this, both of us could end up getting hurt. You know that, right?” it doesn’t look like he knows because he’s usually down to argue his way out of this kind of thing but he’s still staring and you look down to find that ah, shit—

You’re wearing that red lace bra that he adores. And he realises you’re wearing the whole set, and you pray to God he doesn’t remember that the bra clasp is at the front when he leans in to kiss between your collarbones.

Then his hands are sliding up your waist and he makes sure to press so he can feel your ribs under his fingertips because you’re so delectable even when you’re grumpy.

And that’s the final straw.

“Park Chanyeol,” you manage to grab his shoulders to push him over so you’re straddling him and he has his back against the mattress. “I told you I have someone I like.”

“I know,” he’s still breathless when he sits up, and his hands take purchase on your hips as he tries to catch you by the mouth but you’re tired of playing so you wrap an arm around his shoulders to pull his hair and keep him at bay.

“So why did you come here?”

“Babe,” it’s weird when he calls you that, everything about your relationship to him is weird and you don’t know if you can handle it as well as you used to, “we’ve been fuck buddies for two years. I won’t stop coming over unless you officially dump me and you don’t look like you’re going to do that any time soon.”

“What makes you think that?”

Chanyeol sighs and his hands lower to knot at your tailbone, and he looks up at you with a surprising amount of patience in his eyes. Your grip on his hair loosens and you gulp again because he’s finally being serious about how you feel.

“Do you think I don’t know you? You’re scared shitless right now,” he starts and you want to feel offended but you’re ashamed and just a little surprised.

“Why would I be scared?”

“Because you think he’s going to reject you if you confess.”

“So what?”

“So I know you’re not going to confess. Ergo, you won’t dump me. Because we’re biffles and I’m irresistible and you’re devastatingly cute.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. Can I eat you out now?”

“No~” if you weren’t put off before you definitely are now, and you mean to hit Chanyeol’s shoulder with full force but it comes out as a childish attempt at anger that proves that you’re grumpy because you feel miserable and whiney.

“C’mon,” he’s whinier than you are because he was half hard before he got here and it hurts everywhere your body touches him, “don’t think about it so much, just focus on us right now, hm?”

You purse your lips and he knows you want him to distract you (and he’s very good at that), so he starts to draw figure eights on the small of your back until you’re arching towards him and he’s starting to grin.

“Have I ever failed to make you feel like a million fucking bucks?”

Tough to argue with that, and you roll your eyes just to not utter the retort in the back of your tongue. He knows he’s getting the upper hand now so he braves a kiss to the curve of your shoulder and starts a migration upwards when you don’t stop him. Then your other arm lands around his shoulders and you roll your hips ever so softly and he knows he’s got you.

On to the fun part of this fucked up thing.

It’s kind of embarrassing how quickly you forget your anger, your lethargy, your own heart, and how easily you let Chanyeol flip you onto your back. He remembers about the bra clasp at the front alright, and the garment is flung off the bed just when you sit up to undo his dark jeans. They look very uncomfortable and you mean to make a snarky comment but Chanyeol pushes you back into the bed and kisses you so tenderly that it makes your brain shut down for a little while.

“Don’t mind me right now, okay?” he says when he gives you a second to let the fuzziness in your head settle, and the way his voice sounds rips you right out of the delirious miasma he’s trying to create around you.

Chanyeol wants you to  _not_  mind him?

“Geez, you don’t have to look so surprised. Do you think I come here just because I have a hard-on to get rid of?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Seriously… ”  and he kisses you again and he knows he’s being more affectionate than usual, he knows you’re surprised when his hand goes around your neck to run through your hair and when he bites on your upper lip.

Truth be told, he doesn’t know how else to comfort you, because the two of you have always been this messy thing. The first time you met was at Choi Minho’s birthday party two years ago, because you’re the little sister Minho never had (or wanted) and he always takes every excuse he can to get you out of your restaurant’s kitchen in Incheon.

In your defense, one doesn’t raise a five-star restaurant by taking leisurely trips around the capitol. Okay, maybe now you can because you just opened up a locale in Gangnam and Hongdae, but still.

When Park Chanyeol first laid eyes on you, he knew he was fucked in some way or another. It’s not that you’re astoundingly attractive, or that you’re unexpectedly rich for someone so young, and it’s not that his heart skipped every other beat or that he felt short of breath. It’s that his insides felt like they were on fire and he could feel a very unfamiliar tightness in his clavicle when Minho introduced you.

Three drinks and four shots later, you both realised it would just be a shame to hold back. And you haven’t held back since.

It’s just too hard, Chanyeol remembers when you moan and it slips through his lips and down his throat like music. It’s too hard for him not to want to kiss down your chest, not to want to knead your breasts on his way down because he’s made you shiver and your skin is bumpy and shy under his palms.

It’s too hard not to look up to your needy eyes when you whine his name and place your hands over his own.

“I don’t want to get off alone,” it’s enough knowing that he wants to put you first for once, but now that there’s fire tingling between your legs you just want him to come closer, you just want him to touch you  _everywhere_.

He wants to lean over to kiss you, but you sit up and meet him halfway. Then he can breathe better, you can breathe better because there’s less heart and more head, less talking and more noise, from the ones crawling up his throat to the ones his clothes make when they hit the floor and the when yours fly over the headboard.

When Chanyeol looks down at you like he doesn’t know what he’ll do next, you finally relax. You even let your eyes glide around his body, not too familiarly because you never feel possessive about Chanyeol or any part of him. 

Though you do think he has the prettiest dick you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

“We missed a huge opportunity earlier,” he crawls over you but he still looks like he doesn’t know how he’ll take you, “the back of your front door is pretty sturdy.”

“You’d break it,” he’s reached up to you and wrapped an arm around your waist, and you reflexively set your hands on his shoulders.

“I’d pay to fix it, though.” And you have to laugh because you can’t believe you’re having this conversation 100% naked and turned on, as if you were taking a walk by the river and not dying to rip the other to shreds.

“Get on your stomach.”

About time, you think to yourself. Things were kind of starting to get… domestic.  

You still narrow your eyes at him before you start to roll over, and Chanyeol hums appreciatively when you push your ass up just a little bit for his viewing pleasure.

And then you can’t feel him behind you anymore.

“Chanyeol?” you hear him fumbling about, and you crane your head around to see him come out of your bathroom rubbing his hands together. “What is… that?”

“Don’t be impatient,” he says, quickly coming around to straddle the backs of your thighs, “didn’t I say not to mind me tonight?”

You’re about to argue about him acting weird again when his hands land on your back, but you lose all ability to speak when you feel an unfamiliar but welcome warmth and sleekness on your body. He starts at your shoulder blades, massaging the tight knots between your muscles with surprising skill, and you’re already limbless.

This position makes you a little powerless but you don’t really feel like switching it around, and you don’t try to hide the moans his touch brings out of you or the bated breaths struggling to keep your lungs functional. And you know Chanyeol is losing what little self-control he has when you feel him move his hips to the same rhythm his hands have taken a little while later.

When Chanyeol’s hands reach your ass, he outright groans, the noise escalating when you push your ass up again. Though this time it’s meant to welcome him and not just tease.

“Mean,” he mutters, slipping one of his hands between and under your legs. He grins when you yelp because his fingers are slick and really, really hot when they rub around your clit, and his other hand caresses around one of your ass cheeks while pressing down just a little gently. You try to lift yourself up a little to give him better access, and he rubs tiny, quick circles around your centre before he presses you down again, this time to slide two fingers inside you.

And then he moans properly, and you’re getting real impatient.

“Can you fuck me already or do you want a formal invitation?”

He laughs as both of his hands clutch at your hip bones, and he raises you up just slightly to line himself up before he eases right in and  _holy fuck, that’s tight_.

“Press your legs together,” he grunts, rolling his hips only a little because the fit is almost too snug, and he actually gasps when you oblige. “Holy shit.”

“Chanyeol, move, please, move,” you’re grabbing fistfuls of the bedsheets because his length is delicious and agonising as he slips inside, and your voice sounds exactly how he likes it best and he can’t help but obey.

Chanyeol usually starts out slow, but the burn he feels in every inch of his skin makes it very difficult to keep things downtempo. It’s almost as impatient as you feel, the way he ruts into you, his thrusts quick but never shallow, and when you start to call out his name he really gets a taste for it.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he drapes his chest over your back and the grind of his hips slows and gets heavier, he’s going in even deeper and you would pull his hair out (or yours at this point) if you could. “Don’t I always make you feel good?” his giant hands come around to hold yours, and your fingers are intertwined and gripping the sheets before Chanyeol picks up the pace again. “Hm?”

You hum and it’s not what he wants to hear so he moves faster, and you bite on your lower lip to not make any more noise because you’re getting close, really close.

And then Chanyeol is in your ear again. “Do you want to let go of me? Of this?”

You shake your head and Chanyeol responds with a very un-gentle bite to the crook of your neck, and only then does he start to fuck you like he means it.

It doesn’t take very long for your true colours to come out. The burn you feel as Chanyeol grinds in and out is new and almost painful, and it takes no time for it to hurt so good that you can’t help it when you start to pant and moan, you can’t help it when his name starts to roll off your lips even though you’re still telling yourself to remember to remain detached, because you don’t love Chanyeol. You may have, once, but you don’t love Chanyeol.

And then he’s pushing you onto your back, and you don’t register when he slips out and in again because your heartbeat’s so fast that your vision is a little blurry and you think you should get better lighting in your bedroom.

“I’m sorry, I just really need to look at you,” he’s out of breath and his lips are a little swollen and you want to kiss them, so you wrap an arm around his neck and bring him down, raising your knees till they’re level with your hips.

He’s very grateful, and the way his tongue licks down your jaw says it all.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful I think you are?” he’s looking down at you and he doesn’t know why he can’t stop talking. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he needs to stop letting his mouth run with his head and he needs to stop looking at you, all hot and bothered and panting and so full of lust. So he slips a hand between your bodies to press against your clit, and there’s still oil in his hands and it feels like he means to burn you to cinders.

He forgets himself completely when you start to tighten around him, when your hips start to meet his thrusts, and he decides that if you do confess to that dumbass, if he happens to accept your feelings, there’s one really important thing Chanyeol needs to do. Just so he doesn’t go out of his mind.

“Chanyeol,” you moan, and he knows what you’re about to say next so he smiles.

“Shh, I know,” and he grunts because he’s close, too, and it’s a few thrusts later that your eyebrows furrow and your legs spread wider and your hips start to move faster and you let out a tiny, tiny whimper that escalates in pitch and you mean to shut your eyes because the tightness is too much but you catch Chanyeol’s eyes and —  

He sees the pleasure fill your irises and he loses it. He can’t handle it but he doesn’t want to look away, not even when he thrusts over his peak and way past; he can’t even manage any noise, can’t see anything but your eyes and a thin white veil of your temptation and his desire everywhere around them. He can’t feel his heartbeat anymore, can’t register his breathing or any movement at all.

And then you look away, shutting your eyes closed just before he gets to the point of no return, and he remembers his place.

You both wince when Chanyeol slips out, and he’s smoothing lines into your skin when he rolls to his side beside you.

“Are you regretting those death threats from earlier now?” his tone is playful and all too familiar, and you reach out a hand to cup his cheek with a surprisingly sweet smile on your face.

“Maybe.”

Chanyeol realises that his greed is gone, that his being hellbent on touching you, feeling you, making you moan and whimper his name was a momentary thing, because he never liked knowing that you think about other people when he’s not there, because he hates that you can’t be a constant in his life.

“Do you ever think about him when you’re with me?”

The question catches you off guard, and you look away from him to consider if you should be honest or not.

You choose to go for the truth.

“No,” you really don’t, and the look on his face tells you he actually takes your word for it. You don’t think about much when you’re with Chanyeol, other than about… yourself.

Does that make you a terrible person?

You’re too tired to feel guilty, and the smile Chanyeol gives you is too radiant for you to ponder on less pretty things.

“I’ll hook you up with him,” he says, smile unfaltering, and you sit up faster than you should have and you feel a little dizzy.

“Really?!”

“Maybe then you’ll stop doubting my good nature.”

“Are you serious about this?”

“Totally,” and he scooches back so he can rest against your bed’s headboard, beckoning you to do the same a moment later, “maybe I’ll feel less inclined to invade your bedroom if I play Cupid myself.”

“Are you… sure?” you don’t think you buy the nice guy act as you grab your t-shirt from the edge of the bed and throw it over your head, moving to sit next to Chanyeol a moment later.

“Yeah,” he throws an arm around your shoulders and he’s almost surprised when your head lands on his chest, and he wonders if you can register just how fast his heart is beating, if it makes you feel anything at all.

“There are very few people in this world that know Do Kyungsoo as well as I do.”


	2. Cinch

Of all places that Park Chanyeol could have thought of to play Cupid… he chose a nightclub.

Do Kyungsoo and nightclubs don’t really go together.

At least it’s quiet in here, since the top deck is pretty much closed off to VIP guests and the other slew of celebrities you see in comfier dress (though still at idol standard) lounging about.

“Trust me, this is the place,” he tells you, sipping his vodka and bobbing his head to the heavy beat bursting from the DJ booth. “He’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t show up.

* * *

Your second attempt at a meeting makes a little more sense. Chanyeol calls you over to come to a day shoot the group has at the HQ of the cosmetics brand they endorse. It’s pretty close to your restaurant in Hongdae, so you decide to host a luncheon and prepare a full course feast for all of the members and accompanying staff.

Most of the crew makes it, but Kyungsoo leaves after having a single bite because he has a shoot to attend for a new movie he’s filming.

The look he gives you before he leaves gives you some hope.

The look Chanyeol gives you when the younger is gone does not.

* * *

As a third attempt, you propose another invitation to the restaurant, though this time for dinner.

“It’s intimate and it’s straight to the point. He knows I’m interested because I’m seeking him out and this’ll save us time and effort,” you reason, and Chanyeol shakes his head quickly.

“You don’t understand,” he answers, “Kyungsoo isn’t that smart when it comes to people. You have to walk him through it or he’ll shut you out.”

“Chanyeol,” you’re starting to think he’s being difficult on purpose, “we tried your way. Twice. Let me have a go.”

“You don’t know him, babe, he’s not a simple guy.”

A scoff leaves your lips before you can stop it, and you wonder if Chanyeol thinks you’re an idiot.

“You don’t want to help me at all, do you?”

Chanyeol’s giant eyes widen even further at your words, and he sneers defensively. “Didn’t I tell you I’d help you? Am I full of shit? What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem, it’s just that—  “

“You’re getting impatient? I know, he’s just tough to crack like that,” and he comes closer to you until he can wrap an arm around your waist, “I don’t get what you see in him, anyway, but I want to help you out. I really do.”

But the way he kisses your temple, the way he sways you by the hips like it’ll make you feel better tells you that he doesn’t want to help. He just wants to stall you. A bigger part of you reminds you that you need Chanyeol, you need a link to Kyungsoo because he’s all that’s ever on your mind these days and you’d give anything for an opportunity to deal with these feelings, to figure out what to do with them.

The truth is it’s easy for you to be just a fuck buddy because you’ve never known love. You’ve seen it, you know it exists in some plane of reality, but you can’t say that you’ve ever felt it. So every time you see Chanyeol, it’s all you can think about. Why do you feel this way for someone you barely know? Why doesn’t it feel as easy as it does with Chanyeol, why can’t you just flip that switch of yours that makes your interest almost blatant, clear on your face? Why is it so hard to put on the femme fatale mask when it comes to Kyungsoo?

Is it because what you feel is… love?

“Are you upset?” Chanyeol coos before he starts to sway you again, “Do you want me to stay over tonight? We can bring out some toys—  “

“No,” you break off of his grasp as soon as you glance at your phone screen. It’s just about time to close the kitchen and you’re suddenly feeling a lot, a lot of anger and frustration and a little bit of scorn. “You can go fuck yourself tonight, actually.”

You’re angry because things aren’t going as you planned them, you’re frustrated because Chanyeol is trying to monopolise your attention and it makes you want to get as far away from him as you can.

Although, you could make this easy for yourself. You could give in and tell Chanyeol to fuck your brains out; you could make him convince you that you don’t need other people. It’ll get Kyungsoo out of your brain for at least twenty minutes, maybe even the whole night if you keep Chanyeol on his toes. 

You’re just too fucking stubborn.

You need space. Time. Air to breathe. You just need out.

“Where are you going?” Chanyeol follows you as you go to your restaurant break room to change out of your work clothes and into a frilly dress, though the last few days of the summer have already gotten too cool for this kind of wardrobe.

“Out for new dick,” you shoot him a mock salute as you grab your purse and car keys. “Don’t wait up.”

* * *

Truth #1: You’re full of shit. Maybe you weren’t, when you made that gregarious claim about going on a chase for fresh penis, but now that you’re sitting at a nondescript pojangmacha at 2AM, you realise you had absolutely no interest in dealing with more testosterone today.

Truth #2: You skipped dinner. For someone who runs a successful series of restaurants, you suck at keeping a good eating schedule. It’s probably why you’ve gained those few kilos this year. You need to work out more. And maybe get one of those meal reminder apps.

Truth #3: You’re a little drunk. It wasn’t what you wanted, but the nice lady that runs the place noticed you looked upset and gave you two bottles of soju on the house. You’ve drunk both, and you feel like getting super fucking wasted. But you won’t. You have to go to the fish market in three hours because King Crab season kicks off in September and you want to get your hands on the highest quality before your competition does.

But being just drunk sucks. That midpoint between letting go of surface stress and some lethargy and being completely lucid is discouraging and you’d like to go home having done at least one stupid thing tonight.

Maybe you should give Minho a call. He’s always been good at making you feel like less of a sinner and more just of a regular person with a very high sex drive. 

Just then, you look up to the chair across from you at the table and smile. It’d been empty, when you’d put your head down to ponder and sulk.

Now there’s a dude sitting there. He’s wearing trackpants and a tight t-shirt, and he has a nice build. You can’t see his face but you can sense his intentions and it does not feel all that safe.

The first thing you do is simper. “Is this a new trend? Picking up girls at street food joints looking like a stalker?”

The guy shakes his head quickly, but his face is covered with a snapback (those trendy ones with the rings on the front, too, and you wonder if you can flirt your way to getting him to give it to you) and a mask so you can’t read his expression.

“So, what? Are there no other empty seats?” the place is full of them, really, and you gesture towards the other tables with wide, open arms. The guy looks a little freaked, and you feel even more freaked.

“Ah!” suddenly it makes sense, and you clap your hands once and smile at the realisation. “You’re a fan of mine, aren’t you?”

The guy nods this time, and you feel flattered and a bit creeped out.

“Thank you for following my work,” you start, “I’m having some personal time right now, so I’d appreciate it if you went on your way tonight. Do come by the restaurant someday, though! I’ll treat you to something nice.”

“Missy!” it’s the lady that owns the place, she’s noticed you don’t look entirely comfortable with the gentleman in front of you. “Is this man bothering you?”

“Uh, he’s— “

“Do you know him, Missy?”

“Um, n-no—  ”

The guy grabs you by the arm and your eyes widen, and you mean to yank yourself free of his grip but he moves to take off his mask and you blanch because _holy shit, are you about to get molested holy shit holy shit_

“It’s me!”

_Kyungsoo_.

You almost exclaim his name out loud, but he grips your arm a little harder to remind you of where you are, who you’re with, what time it is.

“He’s my friend!” you fire back at the woman quickly, flashing her a blinding smile before she starts to retract to the bar of her establishment.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper, and you see him hide a wide grin as he puts the mask back on.

“It’s my favorite tteokbokki joint. Since I was a teenager,” he explains, and you are so in love with his voice right now that you think you may implode and you wonder if he can tell you’re drunk. “I saw you in here while I was cycling around and couldn’t help myself.”

You’re totally making googly eyes at him. Right in his face.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the nightclub that time, or to the luncheon, it’s just that my—  ”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, smiling already because his intentions show in his eyes, even with what little you can see right now, “never apologise for busting your ass doing what you love. Just… don’t be careless.”

You only realise he’s smiling because it reaches his eyes, and those twin crescents warn you of an early death if you don’t get your wits together in the next ten minutes.

“Are you hungry?” you ask him, and he gives you a guilty look.

“I shouldn’t eat heavy or salty foods because of promotions, but—  “

“Wanna get drunk?”

“I really shouldn’t, but— “

You laugh and call out to the lady one last time. “Can we get an order of tteokbokki and two more bottles of soju, please?”

* * *

“Do you really need to write down a new recipe for macarons  _now_?”

It’s a bad habit of yours, getting creative when you’re a little more drunk than you should be. It’s just that you haven’t been able to nail lavender macarons like you want, you’re sure there’s something missing from the traditional recipes. There’s gotta be an extra kick, something unique, and you’re going to find that unique whatever  _right now_.

Hence why your apartment kitchen is a tiny bit of a mess of mixing bowls, whisks and your three mixers.

In other news, Do Kyungsoo is standing in your kitchen. In your apartment. He’s a little tipsy, but not at all impaired. Actually, he’s kind of glad you ignored the fact that he’s on a strict diet during preparations; it’s been ages since the last time he was able to sit down and share junk food and booze with someone that wasn’t a celebrity or industry staff.

You came down here on the back of his bike, and now he’s in your apartment in form fitting track pants and no face concealing attire at all, and you’re starting to wonder if you passed out and this is just a dream you’re having while face down at that food and drink joint.

Because death by confetti implosion induced by Do Kyungsoo sounds pretty good tonight. After you make these macarons.

“If you give me a hand, we’ll be done in no time. C’mon,” you nudge his arm and he notices your eyes getting bigger and all cutesy.

“You’re drunk.”

“So are you!”

“Kitchens are dangerous when you’re drunk.”

You roll your eyes and straighten up, looking more like the girl he’s seen from the corners of his eyes at those random gatherings Chanyeol likes to organise and he thinks he might squeal. Maybe he shouldn’t play so hard to get anymore.

So he side-eyes you with a cheeky grin, and moves toward the mixing bowls and you grin because you know you’ve got him. It’s nice to know he’s also weak for a good kitchen adventure, and you wonder why Chanyeol was surprised when you first told him you were interested in his younger band mate.

“Fine. I’ll make the buttercream. Vanilla or honey?”

“How about… pistachio?”

“Pistachio buttercream? Really?” 

The look he gives you could ignite suns, and you’re both giddy as kids as you start to move around the kitchen because holy hell, that sounds pretty damn good. 

First, you prep all the dry ingredients, processing the almond meal, confectionery sugar and dried lavender buds ‘till they’re fine while Kyungsoo gets the oven preheating and prepares the wet ingredients. He takes over to mix egg whites and sugar into your batter, and makes excellent work of following the times for each setting. After that, you pour the end result onto a pastry bag and start to lay out cookies on a baking sheet while Kyungsoo goes off to make the buttercream.

He moves with such a light hand that you can’t help but stare at him or the line of his back as he works. You don’t know what you did to deserve this kind of luck, but you sure as hell are grateful.

“Am I taking time away from your resting period?” you know his schedule is absolutely whack and you’d hate to be the reason why he’s not sleeping right now.

“I wasn’t resting anyway. Promoting gives me a lot of anxiety so it’s tough for me to relax,” you love that he’s so open, you wonder if Chanyeol has ever talked to him about you, maybe told him that you were trustworthy, reliable.

You should call that bastard in the morning.

“But this is relaxing to me, so I really feel like I should be thanking you.”

You look up from your baking sheet to shoot him a smile, and he mirrors it when he catches your eye a moment later.

“My kitchen, su kitchen,” you offer, and your expression is endearing and Kyungsoo wonders if you’re put off by the fact that he hasn’t stopped smiling since he walked through your apartment’s front door. “Please come by whenever you want to cook and unwind.”

“Would that be okay?”

How can he be asking that? “I would absolutely love to have you come in,” you smile, returning to your baking sheet to make sure the batter is ready to bake just as he starts to load the buttercream onto another pastry bag. “I could even give you that recipe for the castella cake your maknae adores. Maybe then he’ll stop pestering me to make it for him every two days.”

Kyungsoo laughs and it’s leagues deep and airy at once. “So you’re passing on the torture to me?”

You shoot him a guilty smile even though you don’t feel all that guilty, and his eyes linger on your own and you don’t mind at all even though your heart is about to beat out your chest. “I’ll compensate you,” you propose, and the dark haired young man beams. “What do you want?”

“Hm. I’ll come to the restaurant twice a week. When I’m in Korea, at least.”

He wants to come eat your food? “Really?”

“Maybe more times if I’m free,” he goes on, and he wonders if his cheeks are as pink as the heat he feels on his face would imply. He eyes you more pensively, then, because the look on your face makes it seem as if this were more beneficial to you than to him.

“I love food. I especially love five-star restaurant food, for free.”

As if you had to consider this at all, you chuckle and roll your eyes back to the baking sheet, just as the oven beeps to announce that it’s at your desired temperature. “I’d even give you cooking lessons if you wanted.”

“Are you offering?”

You hum and nod, grabbing the baking sheet and moving towards the oven. “Alright, let’s get these babies in.”

Once they’re in, you set a timer for fifteen minutes and move over to help Kyungsoo clean up. He starts by washing the mixing bowls, cleaning the mixers, and the silence between you is stark, though not uncomfortable.

“You know,” he starts as he helps you rinse the bowls, and you’re caught off guard because you didn’t expect him want to start every conversation today, “you really don’t look like the kind of person you are.”

“What kind of person do I look like I am?”

Kyungsoo chuckles and hums; he expected follow up questions but can’t think of an explanation. “Just,” he muses, “I used to think you were… less.”

You hum right back because you get what he means, though you’re not sure you know how to feel. Everywhere he’s seen you it’s been with Chanyeol’s arm around your waist or your hips, with a drink in hand and short skirts and heeled boots and winged eyeliner.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way!” he defends, his voice climbing up in pitch and volume for just a moment, “I already thought you were a good person, honestly. There’s just a lot more to you than I expected.”

“What do you think now?”

He looks sideways at you and rests his hands on the edges of the sink, and he’s staring straight into your eyes with an intensity you don’t expect at all so you’re not surprised to feel the heat creeping up to your cheeks, His eyes dart to your cheekbones and you know he knows you’re totally flattered, and it makes his grin spread wider.

“Still working on it,” he says, rinsing out the last mixing bowl, biting back a grin when he hears you laugh. “Ask me later.”

Your last task is to clean up the mess the buttercream left behind, and it’s when you’re moving the pastry bag containing it that you realise you haven’t tried it. So you dip a finger into the stuff for a taste and look up to Kyungsoo to properly judge.

Kyungsoo watches you warily, suddenly nervous about how you might react. He wonders if you’ve noticed at all, why he’s come all the way here, how happy it makes him to actually be here. He really is releasing a lot of pent up stress, kitchens do have a wonderful way of helping him relax… but there are also other things that make him feel re-energised, like he could take on the world if he wanted to—  

The sheer delight that spreads through your face could start wars. And it incinerates the very last bits of restraint he had left.

“As expected, delicious. Is there anything you  _can’t_  do—?”

Kyungsoo is a millimetre from your face and then he’s not, his eyes are fluttering shut so yours are as well and he just—  

_He just kissed you_. With a hand to your cheek and his lips on your own and with the cute noise that proves that it wasn’t just any peck but a proper kiss and you’re about to swoon. Why are you so affected? This isn’t your first kiss at all but your toes are curling inside your socks and your hands are balling into fists. Why?

The last time this happened you were like, fourteen and clueless.

“I’m sorry,” he’s pulled back with a smile and his voice is shaky and he’s so nervous and it’s so cute you’re going to die, “I had to do that at least once and you had a little bit of the stuff in your —”

His lips are so soft and he’s smiling when you lean back in, like he didn’t expect you to reciprocate but wished you did and you’re so fucking glad you did when his hands cup your cheeks and he pries your lips open with a touch of his tongue and you think you feel more like yourself now than you have in a very, very long time.

The height difference between you is minimal and adorable, you only have to crane your neck back a little to kiss him and it is absolutely perfect. He backs you up to the counters opposite the ones you’d been working on as his lips press against your jaw.

“You’re not sorry at all, are you?” it’s been about a minute and a half and you’re already running out of air to breathe and you’re afraid that he’ll be gone if you open your eyes so your hands go to rest on the back of his head just so you know that he’s there, that he’s really there and you’re not dreaming.

He chuckles and it’s very low and husky and you’re shivering when his arms go around your hips to lift you and set you over the countertops.

“Not even a little.”

* * *

Chanyeol has been restless all night. He didn’t like the way you left earlier, he doesn’t like it when you get mad because it usually means you’ll go see other people. Usually, he’d be fine with that because he has a tendency to go to other people when he’s bored or upset, too, but the last few months have been… enlightening. At least in regards to his feelings about you, and about a lot of people.

So it’s no surprise he finds himself driving to your place after he’s done with work for the day.

The drive is quick, too, it’s past 3AM and most people are either home or on their way. He hopes you are, too; he hopes you’re not terribly drunk and making a mess out of your kitchen like you usually do. Though it would be nice to find you whipping up chocolate hazelnut barks, because it sure was fun to clean up the mess he made of you that one time…

Park Chanyeol is outright giggling as he gets out of his car, having parked on your garage because he’s the only person who’s ever used your second spot.

Maybe he should gather his guts and finally tell you that he wants more, more out of your… whatever-ship. The thought has him jogging to the elevators and rushing down your corridor till he’s at your front door, and he wonders if he should knock.

Then again, you are probably quite drunk. Maybe even passed out, or face down on your toilet.

_Screw it._

He’s known the pin to get the door open for ages, but he never uses it because you don’t like it when people breach your privacy. Tonight, though, Chanyeol doesn’t really give a shit about your privacy because he’s here to do more than the usual.

The most wonderful smell envelops him as soon as the door pushes open, and he smiles and steps in, already taking off his jacket to put down somewhere because it’s awfully warm in here—  

That’s Kyungsoo’s hoodie on the table.

The oven beeps loudly, and it forces Chanyeol to look over at the kitchen and…

Is it supposed to burn like this? It’s amazing that neither of you heard him come in, ignored the noise of the front door closing. He can see it from here, how consumed you are, how enchanted you look. How delighted Kyungsoo looks.

“The macarons are going to get ruined,” you giggle, arms around Kyungsoo’s shoulders like you have absolutely no intention of putting any more distance between yourself and the dark haired boy before you.

“Shh, just one more minute, I’ll have to leave soon,” Chanyeol can’t see but he can hear the smile in his mate’s voice, he can see it mirrored in your face when you kiss him and something in his chest hurts so, so bad.

“Stay,” you say, voice so soft Chanyeol barely hears it, “just stay.”

Kyungsoo sighs and takes a step back, and Chanyeol reflexively moves to stay out of sight. Then he hears the creak of the oven opening up, and your feet hitting the ground as you get off the counters.

When Chanyeol sidles over to peer at the pair of you, Kyungsoo is pouring buttercream on top of every other macaron cookie with you behind him; your arms knotted at his waist and your chin tucked into his neck.

Under any other fucking circumstance, Chanyeol would be ecstatic to see Kyungsoo smile this brightly.

But this does not feel right. It’s not right. So he straightens up and walks off, not caring if he’s seen or heard as he makes a beeline straight to the door.

He is pulling the door open just as Kyungsoo looks up to the entry way, and his smile doesn’t dissipate, it doesn’t change.

And he’s still not sorry.


End file.
